Drabblepalooza
by alation
Summary: Everyone has recently begun putting their drabbles in one story, so naturally I am going to too. Two. Included: Zutara, Iroh, Kohla, a lost childhood, and a peek into the darker side of Avatar culture.
1. What Would Really Happen in Zutara

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. I don't own Zutara, either, though I hear it's becoming its own nation and will be declaring nuclear war on Kataangland pretty soon here. Haha, attempts at humor in the disclaimer. Gotta love ff. **

**This is a more serious look at Katara and Zuko's possible relationship, given the fluff that seems rampant.**

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**What Would Really Happen in Zutara**

Katara stepped back from the sheer weight of the heat pressing into her, raising a hand before her face. Her spine curved and she gritted her teeth, not wanting to lose control of the impulse to whip her arm around and pull water from the glass behind her, to counter this sweltering barrage with an icy water whip.

"Listen to me, Zuko…"

She didn't bother to finish, knowing he probably hadn't heard her. The air seemed to sizzle and the sweat trickling across her brow hissed into nothing. Katara's eyes sprang open and she took a rattling, heaving breath, her chest burning and her eyes itching. The air felt empty and she swallowed hard to keep her panic in check, knowing that if she struggled it would only incite him.

"Zuko…!"

The water in the cup had long dried up and Katara cast around for something, anything, to pull into her body. A spike of light shining through the tent door taunted her, reminded her of just how close water was. Zuko's blistering assailment of heat had blocked the entrance, making it impossible for her to reach beyond him and revitalize herself. Katara's desiccated skin pulled taut.

Terror and anger surged through her. She eyed the light feverishly and tensed, ready to explode out of this tent and drench herself in the sweet, damp outdoors.

A moment passed.

As suddenly as it had come, her panic subsided.

She raked her swollen tongue across her lips and brought herself back under control. Zuko had done this before. She could handle it. This would be totally okay.

"Zuko, stop! I mean it! It will be fine!"

The heat intensified and Katara pulled away, her back bumping against the table. She shut her eyes and clenched her teeth, drawing in a ragged breath. The inside of her nose shrank and cracked, and a sticky release bathed her lips. Katara brought her other hand to her face reflexively, but when her fingers touched the blood, it had dried into a smooth casing over her skin.

Alarms rang in the back of her head but she ignored them. She knew they were wrong. If he had hit her it would be different. She would have killed him if he had hit her. This was something he couldn't control. It was a remainder of his childhood, lashing out at his father by lashing out at her.

She could fix this.

With an effort she moved her hand to the side and squinted through the wavering air. The outline of Zuko's body stood before the entrance to the tent, half turned from her and perfectly still. Katara mentally recoiled to see how nonchalant he appeared, head bowed and fists at his sides, the only marks of his rage the minute shaking of his arms and legs and the iron set of his jaw. If she could only get over there and touch him, she knew she could calm him down.

She knew she could make this completely okay.


	2. To Grieve

**I don't own. I don't win at life.**

**Set right after Iroh watched the ship he thought his nephew was on burn to charcoal, and before he went to Zhao.

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**To Grieve**

He held his head in his hands - something he rarely did. The inn was crowded with Earth Kingdom peasants made rowdy by their stressful jobs and homes. He had silently excused himself into a corner, and now he sat with nothing before him.

Normally, he would have asked for something relaxing. Ginseng, or chai.

But he knew tonight he would only end up with something… a little stronger.

He laughed; humorless, rough.

And who would he stagger home to?

Someone paid for drinks and the tavern roared. When Iroh raised his face from his hands, he was surprised to see them steam.


	3. Kohla

**If I owned Avatar: The Last Airbender, Kula would be canon.**

**This pairing originated on the DH forums. Babbs came up with it, and youkaislayer classified it. Totally crack, totally wrong. Pretty funny anyway.**

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**Kula**

It felt like nothing on the skin of her shoulder.

Hard, smooth nothing, and if she pressed into it, it wouldn't press back, and if she moved away that pressure would, somehow, remain. Without thinking Azula pressed into it, just to see if this was true.

It wasn't.

"Yes?" The dry, lurid drawl brought her back to reality.

"Nothing." She snapped.

Realization came over her and her stomach took an unexpected turn, freezing the scowl on her face. Remembering herself, Azula quickly relaxed and leaned back, careful not to show her vexation further. Her mind had gone back for that split second – back to where she belonged, where she ruled, where if any man dared question her, he would have his throat and tongue burned beyond use.

But not here.

She resisted the sudden, raging urge to throw herself forward and out of this lair. _This stupid hole!_ What filth she must endure, what vile, base drudgery, _she_, the Fire Lord's daughter, prized jewel of the Fire Nation, must endure…! Trapped here… One day. One day, she would destroy Him. And she would return.

The black thought comforted her, and she smirked, steady once more with the prospects of vengeance to occupy her mind.

The rigid pincer pressed again against her shoulder, bringing back the not-quite-real sensation to her skin. She firmly resisted a shudder.

He could _not_ intimidate her.

_But he did…_

She blasted away the little voice of doubt that had so irritatingly manifested the first time she had laid eyes on Him. Not even the Avatar, in his full wrath, had made that well-buried imperfection, that _fear_ within her, tremble so violently. Never before had she seen anything so hideous, so wicked, and so like herself in nature that it had made her desire to turn her back and flee. He had chuckled, seen her fear, and had not exercised His power.

Deep within her, she knew how she had escaped.

She was nothing more than a rarity to Him. She was His bobble from the other world.

And she was halfway right. After all, his brother Hei-Bai had brought humans into the Spirit World, and his sister and brother Tui and La had decided to join the humans long ago. Azula's captor's reasoning had continued - why should not he use the human for his purposes? He had quite the collection of women's faces already, and to exact his revenge on the Avatar, he would need a human envoy…

Every day since meeting Him, fighting for her life in a land of things from another world, that niggling voice in the back of Azula's head had returned to haunt her. She knew that He could have destroyed her long ago…

And that was what the voice told her. It reminded her how vulnerable she was. How weak.

Rage quickened her blood. He would see, He would see, one day, what this insolence would cost Him…

"Human. …"

Azula stiffened automatically.

"Human, fetch me the Long Eared Sparrow, and wake Three-Fang Snake from his slumber. Lead him here. I will have these countenances for my own." His drifting tone hid a dagger. Azula recognized it immediately.

After all, she had used that voice often when speaking to _her_ servants.

She stood abruptly, refusing to turn and look at him. Fetching his creatures for him, fetching his faces…. A beast. A tyrant. A demon.

"Yes." She spat.

He scuttled across the wall and twisted his body around hers, many segments passing before her eyes before His face came into view. He reached out with four jointed legs, lifting her chin and pushing back her hair and drawing her shawl over her shoulders in one fluid movement.

He forced her eyes to meet his, mocking her pathetic human weaknesses, her misplaced ego, her predictable mortality. He found that he enjoyed watching the lines on her face crease from one nuance of emotion to another. It had been long since he had simply watched this display, as the humans had become tiresome over time and he had ceased paying attention, had merely snatched their faces at the slightest sign of sentiment.

Now, once again, he found a perverse joy in watching her squirm, until finally he received the reply, however forced, that he desired.

"Yes… Koh."

His eyes slanted in approval. He moved in to steal her kiss.


	4. Chasing the Dragon

**I'm glad I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender. Really… I mean, it's fine… that's okay… twitch**

**Posted originally in theavatar100 livejournal community, for the challenge: Music and culture. This would be for culture. The 'drug effect' here is from oxygen deprivation.**

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**Chasing the Dragon**

They wouldn't let their parents see.

They would stand behind closed doors, their minds on war and their eyes closed, chilled at the thought of dying and feverish with anticipation. They would pull a breath deep into their chests and shudder as the energy drove through their veins.

Once they had become experienced, they knew to hold back, just at the end, to invoke that split second of ecstasy.

And then the soldiers-in-training would jerk their stances upwards and turn in the air, wrenching the flow of energy back into their bodies just as flickers shone at their nails. They would land and fall to their knees as the fire they had created burned, now, by that forbidden distortion of Firebending, within their own throats.

One comrade would stand by. Another would stand watch.

Their muscles would fail and their world would spin, and their sanity would seep away as it was consumed by the flame.

Wrath would rush upon them and it made their spines rigid, and hopelessness bickered with their control.

Wild thoughts would come to them – of glory,

of revenge,

of murder – and an ache stabbing every muscle would oscillate to their breathing.

The fire burned within them. And, slowly, they would forget.

They wouldn't let their parents see. Afterwards, when they asked him, the Prince agreed.

That rapture was worth the risk.


	5. Before the Finale

She turned to look at him, eyes downcast.

Aang became uncertain, his smile receding. The whispers behind him faded and a murmur of sea and sand brushed through her hair. He closed his eyes, feeling days spent spread-eagle on the shore, a breeze stirring the salt as Sokka bent over dinner, grinning as Katara practiced "magic water."

_I won't make it! I can't!_

Anguish caused him to step away, disbelieving, wishing her resignation meant something else. He begged her in silence to give him freedom. She bit her lip and was ruined inside.

Aang had always known that he would _go_, but he'd always hoped… he'd always had some thought…

Before he had come here, he had always believed in _after_.

They wanted a hero. They cried for him to make everything better. Children wailed at his feet and made him promise he would save them. Aang gave them a reassuring smile, and told them.

"I will."

And when they were alone Aang cried on her lap and told her how he would go, he would go, he would… but he wished so bad that he could remember how to _go_ _on_ _forever_.

And she had been scared for him, too.

The whispers grew to pleas. He shuddered to see them falling to their knees at his feet, beseeching him with their repression. They spoke of ancient evils, a hero alone, a bloody, desperate hope, and battle, flame from the sky…

Aang clung to memory and wished for yesterdays.

Her hand slipped from his. Her eyes told him what he had to do. He knew she was right.

But it hurt.

"You too, Katara?"

And crying, she sent him into death.


End file.
